


When You Woke Me Up

by plinys



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, FemTrope Bingo, Femslash February, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:39:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3280451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"She's your kid before six."</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Woke Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> for my femtrope bingo card's "kid fic" square.

Bobbi wakes up to the sound of a crash.

There’s a moment where panic rises up inside of her. Years of working from SHIELD having trained her to instantly be on alert, and her arm instinctively tightens around the woman curled up beside her, to protect her.

In the past she would have been more worried. She would have been up on her feet, reaching for the gun she used to keep under her pillow, prepared to shoot first and ask questions second.

But times have changed, and even though her heart is beating an unsteady rhythm in her chest, she waits until she hears a second sound following the crash, an “oh no” in a familiar childish voice, that makes the tension curling up inside of her dissipate at once.

Her grip on her bed partner relaxes at once, and her body slumps back into the bed with familiar relief.

The light laugh from her side means Jemma’s awake as well, and Bobbi cranes her head around to look for the clock, blinking until the blurry red numbers make sense.

When they do she lets out a near groan, “she’s your kid before six,” Bobbi mumbles, before burrowing back under the blankets, as though she really could go back to sleep for a few more hours.

Out of the two of them Jemma is the morning person, whereas Bobbi is the stay up to all hours of the night sort of person.

 This by default means that any time Bella wakes up early Jemma gets to be the responsible one.

At least, as far as Bobbi is concerned that’s how this works.

As far as Jemma is concerned that only lasts until there’s a mug of coffee on the table warm and readily made to prepare Bobbi for interacting with the rest of the world.

“Technically,” Jemma corrects, her voice light and full of mirth with not a hint of sleepiness to her tone, “she’s always _your_ kid. I’m just the nice lady that lives with her mum and looks after her sometimes.”

“You’re not just that nice lady,” Bobbi insists, “you’re also the person who gets up in the morning and helps make sure our little one doesn’t burn down the kitchen.”

That gets another laugh out of Jemma, “you mean making sure she doesn’t take after you?”

“That happened once,” Bobbi reminders her, “and I’d just gotten back from a mission in Siberia where I hadn’t slept in three days.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Jemma teases, before getting out of bed with a grace that only she could possess this early in the day, it’s something that Bobbi has always been the tiniest bit envious of.

Jemma is always beautiful in the mornings, she looks most natural with sleep mussed hair and wide eyes. There’s a smile on her face that nobody other than Jemma could be wearing so shortly after waking up, and it makes Bobbi want to reach up and pull her back into the bed – if only she could kiss that smile from her lips.

As if reading her thoughts, Jemma bends down to press one last kiss to Bobbi’s lips, “you could always join us for breakfast?”

The offer is only slightly tempting, “let me know when you’ve made coffee?”

There’s that look Jemma gets sometimes, where she wrinkles her nose and looks like she’s about to object (probably reminding Bobbi how coffee isn’t actually good for her and that she should be drinking some sort of herbal tea), but she says nothing, just straightens back up with a nod and slips on her slippers before padding out of the room.

She waits for the all clear, the sound of Jemma’s voice mixing with their daughter’s shrill giggles and apologies for waking them up, before drifting back into a sort of half-slumber half-wakefulness. It’s not truly satisfying because she’s missing the familiar weight of Jemma curled into her side, but it’s still needed to prepare her for the day.

It feels far too soon, when somebody comes into her room again, though these steps are not the light and sure ones of a trained SHIELD agent, but the stomps of a young girl, who jumps into her mother’s bed and slips her ice cold fingers up against Bobbi’s arm to wake her up.

“Mummy told me to tell you that your icky drink is done,” Bella says, with a giggle.

“Did she tell you it was icky or did you come up with that one on your own?”

There’s another giggle that is supposed to be some sort of an answer, before Bobbi rolls over off the bed, pulling Bella with her as she goes, the little one squeaking in surprise.

Once she’s righted herself she reaches down to scoop up her daughter, Bella’s squeaks of surprise turning into far happier noises, as she wraps her arms around Bobbi’s neck to hold herself upright.

“Now, little one, what in the world are you doing up this early?”

“The sky’s awake, so I’m awake,” she replies happily, and Bobbi makes a mental note to destroy any and all copies of _Frozen_ in existence at those words.

(Not that Jemma would let her, because apparently she and Bella are in some strange agreement upon that being the best movie in the whole of creation.)

“You know one of these days you could sleep in longer than the sun?”

Bella huffs, “only sleepyheads sleep in forever.”

“She’s definitely your kid,” Bobbi says, once she’s made her way out into the kitchen where Jemma is smirking behind a cup of tea, and the sound of breakfast being made sizzles behind her.

Even though Bobbi’s only half awake, she can still appreciate the happy picture they make. The little family that some days she can hardly believe is real, because looking back on everything she’d been through – everything she’d done – there was no way she deserved something as picture perfect as this morning was.

And it’s almost silly, how wonderful she feels when a second later, Jemma says, “that she is.”


End file.
